


The Person He Loved Most

by justspn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Caring Sam Winchester, Gen, Sick Dean Winchester, Sickfic, Wincest if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 06:49:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3110114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justspn/pseuds/justspn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets sick and Sam is there to take care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Person He Loved Most

Dean walked out of the diner and got into the Impala. Sam noticed the grimace on his face as Dean climbed into the car. He shouldn’t have any sore muscles. They hadn’t been on a hunt in over a week.   
“What’s wrong with you?” Sam asked, kicking off his boots. Dean glanced over at him.   
“Nothing. I’m fine.” Dean answered. Sam smirked at his brothers lie. Sam could tell Dean was getting sick. It always started the same way, achy muscles, headache, stuffy nose. It was just a matter of time before Dean would admit he was actually sick.   
“If you say so.” Sam muttered. Dean glared at him before pulling out of the parking lot of the diner. They were on their way to Connecticut to look into a possible shifter case. 

Now that breakfast was out of the way, Dean could focus on driving all day. At least, he wanted to be able to focus on driving all day. The pulsing behind his eyes made it difficult for him to focus. He sighed and turned the radio on, turning the volume up so it would wash out his thoughts. Of course he was fine. Winchester’s were always fine. Plus, even if he was getting sick, it wouldn’t stop him. 

“Dean? Are you even listening?” Sam asked, giving Dean’s arm a light punch. Dean jumped at the impact and swore, looking over at Sam.  
“What the hell Sammy?” Dean snapped.  
“I’ve asked you to stop so I could take a piss 5 times.” Sam said. Dean noticed the slight wiggle in his brothers composure.   
“Just hurry up. I want to get to the motel before dark.” Dean sighed, pulling the car over on the side of the road. When Sam got out of the car, Dean rested his head on the steering wheel, grateful for the break. His head was still pounding and he was starting to feel nauseous. He sat up when he saw Sam walking back to the car.   
“Okay. Let’s go.” Sam said once he was back in the car. Dean pushed the car into gear and drove off towards the motel.

“You want to hit the library first or hit up the witnesses?” Dean asked from the bathroom. He cupped his hands under the running water and splashed it on his face, hoping to get rid of the pounding behind his eyes.   
“I was thinking dinner, actually. It’s a little late for a Fed visit.” Sam said from where he was standing in the bathroom door. He watched his brother with concern. Dean wasn’t usually one to get sick, but when he did, he got hit hard.   
“Oh, right. Just wanted to get a head start on the case.” Dean covered, leaning on the counter briefly before drying his hands and face on the towel hanging on the wall.   
“You want to eat out?” Sam asked. He was surprised at Dean’s answer.   
“Sure.” Dean said. Maybe eating something would get rid of his headache. He walked out into the room and pulled his coat off the back of a chair and hung it over his shoulders, slipping his arms in while he grabbed the keys to the Impala. 

Sam eyed Dean suspiciously when Dean ordered the chicken noodle soup instead of a burger at the diner down the street from the motel. Dean sipped at his water, another strange choice, and read the trivia questions on the disposable placemats on the table. In the fluorescent lights, Sam could see the color of Dean’s face. Or, the lack of color, now that Sam was paying attention. Sam took a sip of his coffee and internally debated asking Dean if he felt okay. If Sam brought it up and Dean didn’t want to admit he was sick he would push himself until he collapsed. If he did want to admit that he was sick, Sam wouldn’t have to ask him. Sam sighed and rubbed his head. Why was Dean so difficult?   
“What’s your problem?” Dean asked quietly, like he was trying to sound angry but didn’t have the energy.   
“I was about to ask you the same thing.” Sam muttered. Dean took another sip of his water, hoping the scratchy feeling in his throat would go away.   
“I’m not feeling so hot Sammy.” Dean said, his voice almost a whisper.   
“I can tell. What’s wrong?” Sam asked. They were interrupted by the waitress. She dropped off their food, and then scurried over to a table across the diner where a drink had been spilled. Dean took a slurp of the soup before answering.   
“Headache. Throat hurts. Nauseous.” Dean listed off. He took a deep breath and went back to his soup, hoping it would settle his stomach.   
“I’ll stop at the drugstore on the way back to the motel. Okay?” Sam asked. Dean nodded. Sam sighed quietly. If Dean was giving up how he really felt he obviously wasn’t feeling well at all. It was going to be a long few days for Sam. Sick Dean meant Whiney Dean, and that was the worst. Sam almost preferred Stubborn Dean over Whiney Dean, and Stubborn Dean had almost gotten them killed more than once.   
Sam looked up from his salad when he felt Dean leave the table in a hurry.   
“‘Scuse me.” Dean muttered, squeezing behind a waitress towards the mens room. He had been eating his soup, feeling a little better when all of a sudden he felt sick. More sick than before. He hadn’t even said anything to Sam before he took off towards the bathroom. He pushed open the door and ran into a stall, sinking to his knees as soon as the door was closed most of the way behind him. He was shaking and could feel goosebumps prickling his skin. He closed his eyes and let his stomach empty into the toilet bowl.   
After rinsing his mouth out and washing his hands, Dean slowly made his way back to the table Sam was sitting at. Sam raised an eyebrow when he saw Dean approaching him.   
“You okay?” Sam asked once Dean had sat back down. Dean nodded slightly, and pushed his soup away from him. He sipped at his water until the waitress came back to check in. Sam asked for the check and something to take the soup home in. Dean cleared his throat, unsurprised that the scratchy feeling had only gotten worse over the course of dinner.   
“Want the keys? You can go wait in the car if you want some fresh air.” Sam suggested. A different waitress walked by holding a tray of food. The smell made Dean turn green, and he grabbed the keys out of Sam’s hand and was out the door before Sam could even call after him.   
“Here you are.” The waitress said, giving Sam his change and a styrofoam bowl holding Dean’s soup. Sam nodded in thanks and went out after Dean.   
Dean was leaning on his knees, his body hanging out of the Impala. Sam could see the wet spot on the pavement from Dean’s vomit and felt sorry for his brother. He knew Dean hated throwing up more than almost everything. Sam climbed into the drivers seat and put the leftovers in the backseat, hopefully far enough away from Dean’s nose that it wouldn’t create a problem.   
“Hey, you good?” Sam asked, resting a hand on Dean’s back. Sam could feel the shivers racking Dean’s body and the heat coming from him through his coat.   
“Yeah.” Dean mumbled, turning to sit in the car the right way. Sam pulled away once Dean pulled the door shut. Dean melted into the door and window, closing his eyes and focusing on keeping his stomach where it belonged.   
Sam pulled into a drugstore and stopped the car.   
“I’ll be right back.” Sam said, getting out of the car. Dean whimpered and prayed that Sam would hurry. He just wanted to curl up in a bed and sleep until he felt less like death and more like the living. 

Sam quickly navigated his way through the store, finding the cold and flu aisle easily. He grabbed a bottle that he had seen in the med kit before, and some Tylenol before going to the refrigerators in the back of the store. He grabbed a few bottles of Gatorade and some orange juice before heading to check out.   
He was back out to the car in less than 5 minutes. Dean was still curled up against the door. Sam frowned when Dean didn’t even open his eyes to see who was getting in the car.   
“You okay Dean?” Sam asked, resting his hand on Dean’s leg. He heard Dean moan in response, but couldn’t decipher any real words. 

“Here, take these off.” Sam said, gently pulling at the sleeves of Dean’s shirt. Dean tugged the coat off and then his shirt, leaving him in just his tee shirt and jeans. Sam bent over to untie Dean’s boots, and pulled them off his feet. “Take off your jeans. I’ll grab you some sweats.” Sam told Dean, turning to open Dean’s bag.   
“Sammy,” Dean groaned, half panicked. “Gonna be sick.” Sam practically scooped Dean up off the bed and hustled him into the bathroom, placing him in front of the toilet. Their timing was impeccable. As soon as Sam had the toilet lid up Dean was throwing up whatever he had left in his stomach. There wasn’t much, and Sam could tell Dean wanted to cry. Sam sat next to Dean, rubbing circles on Dean’s back until the retching stopped. Dean leaned back into Sam’s body, shivers racking his body.   
“Okay?” Sam asked, standing. Dean nodded and let Sam help him up and back to his bed. Dean pulled his jeans off and snuggled into the sweats Sam grabbed him. He pulled back the blankets of his bed and let the mattress consume him. He heard Sam moving around the room. He cracked open one eye, and saw that Sam had put some Gatorade and water on the nightstand and had placed a small trash can next to Dean’s head. Dean smiled to himself and closed his eye. He jumped slightly when he felt weight on the other side of his bed.   
“Sammy, what are you doing?” Dean croaked.   
“Getting into bed. Here, take this before you fall asleep.” Sam said, placing a small cup filled with thick orange liquid on Dean’s lips. Dean swallowed it and grimaced before turning to face Sam. He waited until Sam was settled before snuggling into Sam’s side, allowing Sam to wrap his arm around Dean’s shoulders.   
“Goodnight Dean.” Sam whispered, gently kissing the top of Dean’s head.   
“G’night Sammy.” Dean whispered back, glad he was curled up in bed with the person he loved most.

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? Comments welcome.


End file.
